


Watch Out for the Quiet Ones

by SpunSugar



Series: Host Club! Yuuri [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Brief Mention of Vomit, Christophe is also a good friend lol, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Gen, Host Yuuri, M/M, Phichit Chulanont Is a Good Friend, Victor is helpless, Yuuri's many sides, brief mention of sexual harassment, flashback to college days, host club, some sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-26 00:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpunSugar/pseuds/SpunSugar
Summary: In college, Yuuri took a job at a host club to make a dent in his student loans. It wasn't a great experience, but a few skills did rub off on him, to Victor's benefit.(Another old prompt: "Yuuri used to be a host to pay his student loans and accidentally turned on that charm to fans and the press. Bonus: Yuuri overflowing with Eros. Chris feels amused and threatened. Double bonus: Victor has overactive imagination about Yuuri.")





	Watch Out for the Quiet Ones

Before climbing the ranks to the Grand Prix podium as a senior skater, Yuuri had trained and attended university in Detroit, which meant he had racked up a hefty student debt. Scholarships and government loans weren’t nearly enough to cover the costs of higher education in the U.S., and Yuuri didn’t have any major sponsors to boast of… Being a professional athlete was expensive.

One late night in the middle of winter semester, Yuuri and Phichit were lying on their backs on the floor of their humble, shared dorm room, surrounded by empty beer cans and complaining about student loans. The mention of it had practically sent Yuuri spinning into an anxiety attack, and he’d quickly downed a few more beers before Phichit could cut him off.

“Ssstupid…. school!” Yuuri slurred, shaking a fist at the ceiling limply. “I’ll fight every one of them and demmmand a refund.”

“Fight _who_?” Phichit started to laugh but had to stop himself as a bout of hiccups bubbled up from nowhere.

“The admisin- administration!” Yuuri explained emphatically. “Educashhun should be free for everyone!”

“Heh- _hic_! Well, you’re right about that, but I don’t think fighting them is the way to get what you want. You’ll get kicked out!” Phichit took a deep breath and held it in his cheeks, trying to force the hiccups back to whence they came, looking a bit like a hamster.

Yuuri turned suddenly and dramatically, hands slapping the floor loudly as he planted them on either side of Phichit’s crossed legs.

“Thenn I’ll jusss have to get what I want some other way,” Yuuri taunted in a low tone, eyes fixed on Phichit like a predator. He leaned in, head tilted, until their faces were close together. “Maybe I should sseduce them…” He brought his parted lips closer to Phichit’s, breath warm, hand sliding up Phichit’s inner thigh.

Phichit let all the air out of his cheeks into Yuuri’s face and burst into laughter.

“Haha, _hic_! Ow, haha- whoo, you got my heart racing, haha! _Hic_! Ow… Don’t _do_ that!” Phichit exclaimed, eyes watering, ribs in pain.

Yuuri looked deeply offended.

“Heeyy! Don’t laugh…” He shook Phichit’s shoulder. “Ssome friend…”

“ _Hic_ \- It’s, haha… _Hic_! Sorry, sorry. But honestly, you always get like this when you’re drunk. _Hic_! I guess the sex-deprived really are dangerous.”

“Phichitttt,” Yuuri whined, flopping onto his back again.

“I’m sorry, _hic_! I’m just teasing. You probably _could_ seduce anyone you wanted, if you approached it with that much enthusiasm every time. _Hic_! Actually, I’d pay to see that,” Phichit mused.

Yuuri sat straight up. Phichit clutched his heart.

“Oh my god, don’t do that!” He batted Yuuri in playful irritation. “Oh. Hey! You scared my hiccups away. Thanks!”

“Phichit.”

“Hm?”

Yuuri had him by both shoulders and was staring very intensely into his face. Phichit looked unfazed. He was used to drunk Yuuri this far into the school year.

“You’re a geniusss,” Yuuri told him.

 

 

That semester, Yuuri got a job at what was probably the only host club in the United States. The rules were very different here. He’d heard rumors back in Japan of hosts in Nichō involving themselves sexually with clients, though the clubs had always worked hard to keep a clean front for the public. But here, sex was almost expected. Clients weren’t happy unless Yuuri spoke to them like a lover, keeping physical contact with them at all times. The managers simply turned away when clients got too handsy, leaving Yuuri to pry himself free on his own. And without offending customers and losing commissions… At times it felt nearly impossible. But when the pay was good… it was so good.

“I’ve created a monster!” Phichit shrieked when Yuuri came home at 3am one night and pounced on him, reeking of alcohol, his shirt hanging open to reveal his toned abdomen. Phichit’s textbook slid off of the desk, notes scattering everywhere. He let out a groan of lament.

“I’m exhausteddd,” Yuuri whined, rubbing his face on Phichit’s.

“And drunk again,” Phichit commented. He stood up and guided Yuuri to the bottom bunk, tucking him in and setting his glasses on the bedside table.

“They get offended if you don’t finish the drinks they bought you-” A long yawn escaped Yuuri. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. His head hurt. “And the managers keep yelling at me about it. That’s how we make most of our money…”

“I don’t think I could do it,” Phichit said, perching at the end of the bed.

“Some of the other hosts will go to the bathroom to throw it all up before they get too sick, but… I just can’t,” Yuuri mumbled.

“Geez… Are you sure this is really worth it?” Phichit asked. “I mean, I’ll support you as always, but you do worry me sometimes.”

But Yuuri had already passed out.

 

 

Several years later, Yuuri had put his host days behind him.

He had become a skater on everybody’s radar, especially now that Victor was his coach.

“Katsuki-san, you’ve surprised your audience quite a bit this season. Can you tell us a little about your _Eros_ routine? Do you feel that it’s very different from your regular persona?”

The swarm of reporters descended as Victor and Yuuri attempted to exit the rink. Victor reflexively put a reassuring hand on Yuuri’s lower back. He wasn’t prepared for how Yuuri turned slowly to confront the reporters, giving them a good view of his entire body as he twisted to face them, the gem shards on his costume reflecting the lights on the cameras like licks of blue fire.

“My _Eros_ routine…” Yuuri echoed in a quiet, husky voice. He could feel himself slipping back into that mode which had consumed him on the ice.

Victor felt something in the lower half of his torso clench. He knew that tone. That delicious voice of Yuuri’s which haunted his memories- and often his dreams, though Victor never thought he’d hear it outside of the bedroom. Maybe he’d misheard. Maybe Yuuri was just tired from his performance.

“Did you like it?” Yuuri had ignored the original question completely, but the reporter didn’t seem to notice. She was looking anywhere other than Yuuri’s face, and blushing hard.

“M-me? Oh, well, yes. I’m a b-big fan,” she stammered.

A second reporter took the opening and jumped in, pressing his microphone up to Yuuri’s face.

“Mr. Katsuki, you don’t really seem like the type to choose such a routine, based on what we’ve seen from you in previous performances. Is this Victor’s influence we’re seeing?”

Victor knew Yuuri would normally be annoyed by the sudden intrusion into his personal space, but if Yuuri was feeling annoyed, he didn’t show it. A calm smirk contorted his lips as he leaned closer to the microphone.

“Victor has… certainly inspired me-”

Why did each word sound like Yuuri was reading aloud from a dirty novel? Victor could feel his palm sweating where it connected with Yuuri’s back.

“-but I won’t let him take _all_ of the credit. I’ve been pushing my body to its limits all season to show you just what I’m capable of.”

Victor’s mind was imprinted with a clear image of Yuuri on his knees at Victor’s feet, crawling his way up Victor’s body slowly, pushing him down rough, with both hands, sinking onto his hips with all of his weight and a hungry, self-indulgent moan…

_‘I’ll show you just what I’m capable of, Victor.’_

Victor felt hot suddenly, choked by his shirt collar. A series of camera flashes brought him back to the present.

“Thank you, Mr. Katsuki. We’re all very excited to see what else you have in store for us.”

Victor had missed the rest of the impromptu Q&A. He wasn’t disappointed to see the reporters dispersing. Victor caught Christophe’s eye across the crowd just before the media swallowed him up. The Swiss skater seemed baffled, unsure whether to be impressed with Yuuri, or jealous of this sudden competition, but he was decidedly clear when he shot Victor a look that said,

_‘If you don’t tap that tonight-’_

“Come on, Victor.” Yuuri pulled away from him, leading the way to the garage.

Victor followed after in a daze, watching Yuuri silently from behind. It took him until they reached the van to say anything.

“You’ve never been so confident with the press before. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Didn’t you say to turn on the charm for them?”

“Yes, but you should be careful of overkill. That voice of yours is enough to make a man faint.”

Yuuri looked over his shoulder, regarding Victor with amusement.

“Maybe I like you weak in the knees.”

Victor’s hands slipped a little as he fumbled with the keys.

“When you first told me you’d worked as a host in college, I couldn’t believe it, but now I can picture it perfectly… I still hate the thought of other people trying to put their hands on you, though.”

Victor remembered suddenly that Yuuri didn’t really seem to like to talk about his experiences at the club. He opened his mouth to apologize but before he could even draw a breath, Yuuri slammed him up against the van. Yuuri’s gym bag slid off of Victor’s shoulder, landing on the ground with a heavy, muffled sound.

Victor expected him to look pissed, but Yuuri had a pleasant expression on his face, his eyes half-closed, pressing into Victor softly.

“Maybe you should touch me twice as much to make up for it…”

Yuuri could put on a front when he needed to. He’d practiced well. But with Victor, it was different. It was just raw, vulnerable wanting. It was full-bodied need that Yuuri no longer felt he had to hide. He knew that Victor shared his need, and that was safe.

Victor wrapped his arms hesitantly around Yuuri, gliding a hand up his side with the utmost care. He was holding something precious, after all. Yuuri’s fingers easily intertwined themselves with Victor’s, coaxing them apart and stealing the keys right out of Victor’s clutches.

“What do you think?” Yuuri asked, dangling them suggestively in Victor’s face. “I don’t really feel like driving back yet.”

“Do you think you can keep your voice down?”

“No promises.”

Victor was not the least bit dissuaded.


End file.
